Deep among the leafy lanes of Gloucestershire - in posh territory they had never previously visited - Charlton got stuck straight into their annual early-season task of lightening the fixture load. Their prompt departure from the EFL Cup was as predictable as it was inevitable. They won't find it as easy to exit the EFL Trophy (nee Johnstone's Paint Trophy) with its irritating mini-league format but where there's a will, the Addicks will always come up with a way.

Charlton's latest custodians of a club tradition which regards early elimination from cup competitions as almost an article of faith, gave best to a 17th minute goal from Harry Pell, a towering midfielder who spent the 2009-10 season in their youth ranks. Pell bashed a loose ball past Declan Rudd after Danny Whitehead helped on Daniel O'Shaughnessy's huge throw from the right. Beaten at Bury three days previously by goals conceded from a corner and a penalty, the Addicks look set to continue last season's chronic vulnerability to setpieces.

Before Pell scored, both sides had seen "goals" ruled out for offside, with the visitors the more aggrieved victims of the fatal flag. Nicky Ajose seemed at least level with Brandon Hanlan as the strongly built 19 year-old debutant ran on to Ricky Holmes' pass and crossed low for Ajose to turn home from two yards. Two minutes later, Rudd parried Pell's deflected drive to Danny Wright, who netted from a more obviously offside position.

The burst of early excitement soon abated, though the abject depths plumbed at Gigg Lane were never emulated. This game looked positively jaunty alongside Saturday's tedium.

Also making his debut in the beautiful Cotswolds was 18 year-old Ezri Konsa, with both teenagers acquitting themselves well. Assured on the ball and positionally sound, Konsa oozes promise. A comparative veteran, meanwhile, though still two months short of his 19th birthday, Ademola Lookman ran through his impressive box of tricks in his restless efforts to haul his side back into contention. Occasionally overdoing his individualism but not above tackling back where needed, Lookman's a bright spark in danger of being extinguished by the dampness around him.

With 73 minutes available to find an equaliser after falling behind, Russell Slade's men rarely threatened to cut the mustard. Shortly after Pell's opener, Roger Johnson's sidefooted shot was blocked on the line but Russell Griffiths should have been given no chance by Ajose, who scuffed weakly wide from Hanlan's knockdown. Otherwise impressive before limping painfully off, Holmes blasted a half chance over the bar before Ajose was a toe-end away from meaningful contact with Holmes' hard low centre. None of Charlton's efforts, however, matched the quality of Wright's venomously struck volley shortly before the break, which dipped over the crossbar by mere inches.

A livelier second period was largely controlled by the city slickers but the country bumpkins, bless 'em, stayed solid and rode out the occasional bump in the road. Charlton's best chances fell to willing worker Hanlan, who twice screwed wide on the turn, then saw a shot blocked at close range. Cheltenham actually came closer to scoring again but O'Shaughnessy spooned wildly over the bar after Rudd spilled Whitehead's free kick. The new keeper then kept the issue alive by saving smartly from Wright.

An ominous reminder that in the event of a draw, extra-time and potentially penalties would apply, concentrated minds wonderfully but that grisly prospect was avoided as Charlton ran out of ideas. Which is exactly what has happened to your reporter under the strain of padding out a full report. So that's all she, or in this case he, wrote.

Not an effort on goal during 90 toothless minutes, not even a corner to relieve the monotony. Those were the stark statistics behind Charlton's third successive goalless draw, a deceptively encouraging result against generous opposition who appeared determined at times not to add a goal to their obvious superiority.

If it all sounds familiar, especially the first part, that's possibly because this uncomfortable experience jars unpleasant memories of last season, a campaign which, to borrow from President Roosevelt's reaction to Pearl Harbour "will live long in infamy", not to mention the bruised minds of Charlton supporters.

There was no shame in playing second fiddle to Mick McCarthy's sharp, mobile Ipswich and there was undeniable merit in the dogged resistance which kept the scoresheet blank. Admittedly, the visitors did their best to help by hitting the woodwork twice, missing several other chances, the most glaring of which was headed wide by skipper Luke Chambers when scoring seemed easier than missing, and otherwise letting their outclassed hosts off the hook. It's unlikely though that Charlton's upcoming League One opponents will be as accommodating.

There was little else to dispel the big, black cloud which has gathered over The Valley and became bigger and blacker as the Tractor Boys strutted their stuff. Second half substitutions lent the line-up the appearance of an U-21 side and highlighted the thinness of Russell Slade's squad. To be fair, the Addicks' best performer throughout an awkward evening was imposing 18 year-old centre back Ezri Konsa, a tower block of a kid who has clearly been eating his greens and added an heroic goalline clearance to his excellent contribution.

Also impressive was goalkeeper Dillon Phillips, who has stepped up with a string of clean sheets to fill the void created by the departures of Stephen Henderson and Nick Pope. The shambolic circumstances, under which Henderson and Pope left, typify the recent chaos at Charlton, with the latter's loss the more keenly felt.

"Burnley came in with a huge offer for Nick," Slade explained, " which we had to consider in the end." Since all transfers in SE7 are for undisclosed fees, we'll have to take the manager's word for the hugeness of Burnley's offer but there was always an alternative to accepting it. Sean Dyche could have been invited to "do one" and young Pope's agent reminded that his client's contract, for which he was so grateful when agreed, was not only legal but a matter of mutual honour. Or do such sentiments belong in a different century? That question is, by the way, rhetorical.

On a pleasant Tuesday evening in an atmosphere more suited to a mausoleum than a football stadium, the visitors made all the running and all the chances. As early as the 10th minute, Christophe Berra and Jonas Knudsen tore Charlton open down the left but Brett Pitman's expertly cushioned shot rebounded unluckily off the crossbar. Before the half hour, David McGoldrick's Robson-Kanu-inspired turn caused chaos in the Addicks' penalty area but was let down by a careless shot over the bar. The veteran's wild effort from distance was even further off target.

With nothing to report from the other end, the second half provided more of the same. Substitute Teddy Bishop's shot was smartly saved by Phillips, with Konsa's alertness clearing up an unseemly mess on the line. Pitman was unlucky again when his precise header sent Freddie Sears' precise cross against the bar before Chambers contrived to miss the target after Cameron Stewart's perfect centre set him up with a sitter from all of three yards. Town's skipper was more accurate in the dying minutes from another outstanding cross by Stewart but was foiled by Phillips' fingertips.

Hanging on with commendable pluck, meanwhile, the Addicks provided little to suggest that this season will be any improvement on the last. Watched in funereal silence by less than 2,000 partisans, they at least were unstinting in their effort. Any day now, though, that aforementioned cloud is likely to burst and leave poor Slade, armed only with a colander, to bale out a steadily sinking ship. Nobody will blame him if he dives overboard.

Before departing the Championship in diametrically opposite directions, these sides paused long enough to provide reasonably diverting end-of-season entertainment. The reason was, of course, unpleasantly familiar to doomed Charlton, on the short end of their eighth 3-0 drubbing of this miserable season.

Having been officially relegated at Bolton on April 19th, the Addicks might have chosen to go through the motions in three games since their fate was sealed. To their credit, they gave play-offs bound Brighton a decent game, surprised Leeds United at Elland Road last week, then closed out their ill-fated campaign by matching worthy titlewinners Burnley in most of the footballing virtues except, significantly, the art of finishing. A two-minute, two-goal salvo bust by the buoyant visitors early in the second half put paid to their hopes of signing off with a flourish. But they tried. At least give them that.

Confirmed as champions by virtue of Middlesbrough's concurrent 1-1 draw with Brighton, the Clarets remained impressively focussed throughout an awkward, tempestuous afternoon. Their worst fear of a prematurely abandoned game hung over them but they stuck to their task. Even the occasional flare tossed on to the pitch failed to ruffle their concentration as they cruised into the Premier League.

The unstinting support of the visiting fans,who filled the Jimmy Seed Stand and spilled over into neighbouring East Stand, for the regular outbursts of protest against the disastrous Duchatelet regime did much to defuse an incendiary situation. It turns out that Burnley are owned by a local businessman, whose heart and soul are rooted in his beloved, local club. Likewise, a familiar-looking matchday squad, featuring 17 British-born players, supplied the venerable Lancashire club an appearance of stability and commitment. When the chips were down their togetherness pulled them through.

Not that such comments should be interpreted as a Little Englander rant. Nothing wrong with gifted imports strutting their stuff, infusing our domestic game with exotic nuances. They enrich the domestic scene. And when the balance is right, there's the basis of a successful side.

It's been a pleasure, for instance, to watch Johann Berg Gudmundsson in action over the last two seasons. Appreciating his technique as he receives a pass while gracefully pirouetting into space has been nothing short of an education. On the end of unfair criticism for "not trying", the gifted Icelandic stylist has answered his detractors with 11 assists and 6 goals in a team which has managed only 9 wins and 40 goals all season. In other words, he has been directly involved in almost half of Charlton's goals. Despite international commitments he has also made 39 league starts, only one short of Morgan Fox's leading total of 40. Imagine what he might have accomplished had he been persuaded to try.

Gudmundsson was at the heart of Charlton's bright start. His intuitive understanding with the precocious Ademola Lookman posed the no-nonsense visiting defence problems, their link-up play setting up Jordan Cousins to slice high over Tom Heaton's bar. Gudmundsson's perceptive pass then created a fleeting opportunity for Lookman, whose goalbound shot was deflected for a corner. At the other end, Matt Lowton's ball into Scott Arfield's feet was astutely flicked on to Sam Vokes but blasted wildly over the top. Prolific scorer Andre Gray should also have done better than shoot into the sidenet from Joey Barton's pass. But the champions were not kept waiting long to take the lead.

A more than useful player when his mind is on the job, Barton kept his side ticking over. He started the incisive move which saw Stephen Ward exchange lightning-quick passes with George Boyd before crossing low for Vokes to finish simply at the far post.

Before the interval, Gudmundsson and Lookman combined to fashion Charlton's best chance. Gudmundsson's pass sent Lookman away to cut back a perfect ball for Callum Harriott. From the penalty spot, Harriott's weak effort hardly troubled Heaton, whose best save of the first half turned Gudmundsson's powerful daisycutter away to safety.

Within six minutes of the second period, Burnley's league title was rubberstamped by two further goals. The first was laid on by Ward, whose hard cross from the left was missed by Gray but made its way to Boyd beyond the far post. A sure first touch made Boyd's close range finish simple. The Addicks were still reeling when Dean Marney's long ball over the top was chased down by Gray and squeezed home from a tight angle between Nick Pope's legs.

At which point, a discreet veil is drawn over Charlton's disastrous 2015-16 season, one which saw three different managers, the last of whom -Jose Riga- jumped before he was pushed in the immediate aftermath of defeat by Burnley. There's nothing more to be said about the ruin made by Duchatelet of a proud football club, except to grudgingly acknowledge that it was accomplished with all the ruthless efficiency once brought by Henry V111 to the dissolution of the monasteries. And with the same degree of contempt and lack of respect.

N.B. God loves a trier. And nobody was more trying than some of the security zealots at The Valley yesterday. They also flirted with illegality in their violent Canute-like struggle to control a steady trickle of immigrants from the home stands. But the overall impression they left behind them was one of almost comical ineptitude...behind them being a particularly apposite phrase.

It was hardly a feat of staggering prescience to anticipate that the fans who sold out the Jimmy Seed Stand would have something to celebrate at the final whistle and that, in football's fine old tradition, they intended to invade the premises to do just that. So as our Orgreave-inspired zealots battled away with their backs turned, Burnley's happy wanderers amiably ambled on from the other end to join forces with their home brethren in saluting their triumphant heroes and joining in the local anti-Duchatelet protest. In no time at all the pitch was flooded with cavorting peacemakers. It was the 1915 Christmas Truce all over again and a shot in the arm to see authority reduced to figures of fun. The people united... will never be defeated!

It was surely a mischievous quirk of the fixture list that sent Charlton to visit Leeds United on the penultimate weekend of a deeply troubling season. They were greeted in West Yorkshire by a fellow basket case of a football club, also fallen from grace, grateful for mid-table mediocrity and using their doomed visitors as a warning of what happens when your grasp exceeds your reach. Not that United, under the chaotic ownership of Massimo Cellino, are about to listen to warnings.

Motormouth Cellino staggers from one legal crisis to another, always sailing close to the wind aboard a yacht in which the Italian authorities maintain a keen financial interest. Life at Elland Road is described in their own programme notes as a story of "protest, unrest and legal issues", at the centre of which is their belligerent Chairman. They broke the mould when they made Massino Cellino... just in case.

Taciturn Roland Duchatelet, on the other hand, has rarely a word to say about the mess he has made of Charlton. His first important executive decision in 2014, involving the ruthless sacking of Chris Powell, set in motion the train of events which has led to an ignominious, bitterly resented return to League One, the division from which Powell had led the Addicks so spectacularly in 2012. Hunkered down in his Brussels bunker, Charlton's absentee owner leaves his beleaguered CEO Katrien Miere to field the flak. The know-all owners of Leeds United and Charlton have nothing and everything in common. Sorry is not merely the hardest word for them to say - they choke on their cornflakes when anyone so much as suggests they use it.

Anyway, as my Mum used to say, bad cess to the both of them. For this reporter, it's always about the football. And, oddly enough, with no discernible pressure on them, these relaxed sides served up a surprisingly open, entertaining game. It was no surprise, either, that Charlton, unbeaten at Elland Road since 2000, survived a late battering to emerge as worthy winners.

You'd be wrong in assuming that the result of this ostensibly meaningless match didn't matter. United's manic quest for a second goal to extend a four-game unbeaten run belied that assumption, while their classy visitors left behind them the impression that they'd realised too late they were far from one of the Championship's worst three teams. Unfortunately, the table proves otherwise.

The long awaited return of Ahmed Kashi showed what the Addicks had missed during the French Algerian's long absence. Covering, tackling and inevitably picking the correct pass, Kashi was superb, as was Nick Pope behind him, whose string of assorted saves edged his colleague to man-of-the-match honours. Goalscorers Johann Berg Gudmundsson, almost certain to leave in the summer, and Ademola Lookman, still three months from his 18th birthday, also ran Pope close. Lookman would be advised to continue his promise locally before trying out deeper waters.

Gudmundsson served early notice of his left-footed shooting prowess with a cracking 30-yard drive which beat Marco Sivestri all ends up but rebounded harmlessly off the base of the right post.

Six minutes before the break, the graceful playmaker put the record straight by firing his buoyant side into the lead. He arrived at the near post to finish an incisive move which flowed through Johnnie Jackson to Lookman, then on to the aggressively overlapping Morgan Fox. The left back's perfect cross picked out Gudmundsson who gave Silvestri no chance.

During an even first half, Pope had begun his heroics by leaving his line alertly to narrow Luke Murphy's angle and blocking the clean through midfielder's close range effort with his legs. Before the Addicks headed south with the points, the brilliant young keeper repeated the feat twice to similarly deny substitute Marco Antenucci and Chris Wood in one-on-one confrontation, while the bravery he showed in diving full length to head clear from Wood outside his penalty area was exemplary. When the decks are cleared before next season, Pope must be among the first names on the new teamsheet.

Pope's excellence prepared the ground for Lookman to double the lead four minutes after the break. Jinking in from the left, a series of deceptive feints made space for a crisp right-footed drive into the bottom left corner. He's a talented kid as Duchatelet, from the safety of his counting house, is no doubt already evaluating.

Shortly after Lookman struck, Charlton rode their luck as Charlie Taylor's sumptuous cross was cleverly headed against the underside of the bar by Wood, with Sol Bamba blasting the rebound into the sidenet. The Londoners were living nervously and eventually succumbed with 20 minutes remaining. A weary foul by Kashi on Taylor earned the holding midfielder a booking and allowed substitute Alex Mowatt to place a lethally outswinging free kick on Bamba's head. Even the inspired Pope could do nothing to prevent the huge centre back's unstoppable header from reducing United's arrears.

Defending as though their Championship survival depended on it, with substitute Simon Makienok a tower of strength in the air, the Addicks were pinned back by the ferocity of the resultant onslaught. But whenever their resistance crumbled, there was always Pope to get past. An instinctive reaction at his near post to stop Antenucci's point-blank blockbuster almost paled into insignificance alongside the marvellously athletic, mid-air save he produced in added time to touch Mowatt's top-corner bound drive over the bar. The joy and relief among players and fans at referee Hill's final whistle was almost touching and told us that this battered old football club is still very much alive. That's the message we brought back from Leeds and is one worth passing on to Brussels. We'll still be around when you're gone, pal. Don't let us keep you.Leeds: Silvestri, Coyle, Bamba, Cooper, Taylor, Bridcutt (Antenucci 66), Murphy (Diagouraga 75), Botaka, Cook, Dallas (Mowatt 50), Wood. Not used: Wootton, Erwin, Phillips, Peacock-Farrell.

This narrow defeat inflicted by play-off aspirants Derby County -their 10th single goal reverse of the season- could be used as a blueprint in explaining why Charlton are slipping inexorably into League One.

Not for the first time recently they matched upwardly ambitious opponents step for step but when push came to shove (as presumably it did in the cockeyed decision of referee Darren Bond to disallow a patently valid goal by Jorge Teixeira) they came up short again. They also hit the woodwork before succumbing to a familiar weakness, namely their chronic inability to deal with corner kicks.

To be fair, for an hour the Addicks had coped adequately with a steady stream of corners delivered by Tom Ince until one too many of the winger's nagging flagkicks was nodded on by Chris Martin and headed under the bar by Johnny Russell at the far post.

At the time, the out-of-luck home team were still burning with resentment at Bond's howler mere moments before Russell scored.. There was clearly nothing illegal about Teixeira's challenge on Scott Carson before he headed past the indecisive goalkeeper and Bond clearly wavered before coming down in favour of an endangered species. Refined as they are in their various forms of villainy, among which eye-gouging is amost an art form, rugby must roll up with laughter to hear football's persistent claim to be considered a contact sport. And Nat Lofthouse (check with your grandads, kids) must be turning in his grave.

Only minutes before Teixeira was robbed, Charlton had further cause to curse their luck when Carson was left stranded as Igor Vetokele's looping header left him helpless but rebounded off the bar. It's all too late to matter this season, of course, but when you've reached bottom, fate seems determined to kick you down even further. But at least Jose Riga can find consolation in the fight being shown by his doomed side.

Nobody embodies their spirit more than Nick Pope, whose constantly improving goalkeeping has hopefully silenced critics who made no allowance for youth in making him the latest of their scapegoats for the Addicks' frailty. In the first half, Pope pulled off an all but unbelievable double save, the second of which was clearly his best of the season.

Moving across his line from left to right to cover his near post, young Nick was wrongfooted as Ince squeezed Russell's low centre back across him from a tight angle. Sticking out an instinctive left boot, Pope somehow blocked the bobbling shot but only as far as Martin, who had the whole goal at which to aim from 10 yards. The centre forward's vicious drive was the surest of sure things until Pope's electric reflexes enabled him to conjure the ball over the bar. The standing ovation he earned was heartfelt; now maybe he can get on with his job of pinning down Charlton's goalkeeping duties for the foreseeable future.

During a first half of honest endeavour but few chances, the Addicks shared what there were with the fifth-placed Rams. Callum Harriott managed the first effort on target but Carson saved comfortably, then Cyrus Christie's magnificent block denied Johann Berg Gudmundsson as the Icelandic stylist shaped to shoot from close range. A weaving run by the irrepressible Ademola Lookman set up Harriott to drive inches off target with his less favoured right foot. At the other end, Harriott's clumsy challenge on Russell conceded a dangerous free kick which Jacob Butterfield wasted before Martin set up Russell to let fly on the run but wastefully wide. Following Pope's double-save heroics, Teixeira 's desperate interception foiled Ince on the left byline and the trickster closed a lively enough opening period by blasting aimlessly over the bar a free kick needlessly conceded by Morgan Fox for a foul on the persistent Ince.

With their fate already a whisker away from being sealed, Charlton's hunger for victory after the break was nonetheless admirable. A goalmouth scramble saw the rapidly improving Rod Fanni's effort scraped clear, then Lookman's inswinging corner headed unluckily off the bar by Vetokele. Teixeira promptly became the victim of Bond's flagrant injustice (which predictably passed unremarked on Channel 5 later in the evening) and Russell celebrated Derby's escape by heading them into an undeserved lead.

Still Charlton refused to capitulate. Butterfield's crude tackle on Lookman, for which he was rightly booked, was almost punished by the youngster, whose wickedly swerving free kick was brilliantly tipped over by Carson but the beleaguered visitors were not quite safe yet. Gudmundsson's resultant corner reached the insatiably working Jordan Cousins, whose ferocious drive skimmed the left post. In a last hurrah, a fine, last ditch defensive header by Jason Shackell whisked Marco Motta's lethal cross off fellow substitute Simon Makienok's head as an equaliser appeared inevitable. Yet again, it was too little too late...which could serve as an epitaph for Charlton's disastrous season.

This report is dedicated to Programme cover boy Jack Wood, Perry Goldstone, James Barnes and their Upbeats teammates who have cheered us up while we're going down. Thanks, chaps.

It could be a case of too little too late but the renewed spirit which drove Charlton to this important victory over promotion candidates Middlesbrough suggests that the bookies won’t be paying off early on their impending relegation. They might be limping badly but there’s life left in this old dog yet.

On a chilly Sabbath afternoon, during which the football was sometimes secondary to distractions elsewhere, the Addicks were good value for their first home win since Sheffield Wednesday were sent packing on November 7th. The Owls are co-incidentally their next opponents at Hillsborough on Saturday. An unlikely league double is precisely what the club doctor would order.

Keeping their attention firmly fixed on events over which they had no control, Jose Riga’s newly resilient side (seven points from the last nine and two back-to-back clean sheets) took advantage of Boro’s own inter-club issues. Although interim boss Steve Agnew denied that the acrimonious departure of Aitor Karanka less than 24 hours before this mutually vital fixture had affected its result, it was surely a relief, not to mention a welcome novelty, for Charlton to face opposition in even greater disarray than themselves.

It hadn’t seemed quite so promising when Agnew’s teamsheet confirmed that Addicks nemesis Jordan Rhodes would feature in his starting line-up. No favourite of Aranka but scorer of 11 goals in 13 previous games against Charlton, Rhodes was a tempting 5-4 bet to score on Saturday. But apart from one header which wastefully directed Albert Adomah’s perfect cross straight at Nick Pope, he never threatened to justify the odds. Scarcely allowed a touch, he incurred a booking for his niggling obstruction of Pope before departing hang-dog on 74 minutes, unwittingly joining a pre-planned walk-out of home fans with different motives for prematurely quitting the scene.

The peripheral incidents, meanwhile, had begun at kick-off, with the carefully orchestrated release of black-and-white beach balls, which caused a four-minute delay before the pitch was cleared. Minutes later, a phantom whistler in the North Stand brought the action to a standstill as the players reacted obediently. Referee Darren Deadman handled the crisis by patiently demonstrating, unlike Basil Fawlty who befuddled his guests by stressing the barely detectable musical differences between the burglar and fire alarms, that his whistle was clearly two octaves higher than the interloper’s. The crowd did its bit by cheerfully reminding everyone that it’s always wise anyway to play to the whistle.

A mundane first half ground on, enlivened by the various off-pitch antics but featuring little in the way of positive action from sides with vastly differing agendas. Encouraged by a battling captain’s performance from Jordan Cousins, the Addicks had the better of what little action there was. Continuing his recent improvement in form, Johann Berg Gudmundsson tested Dimi Konstantopoulos with a raking low drive while Callum Harriott, paired upfront with Ademola Lookman in a partnership long on nimbleness but short on height, drove narrowly over the bar.

Responding for the visitors, attacking left back George Friend’s awkward cross was expertly cushioned back to Pope by Jorge Teixeira, his cool defensive example hardly emulated by Rod Fanni, who almost marred an otherwise excellent contribution with an own goal when Emilio Nsue’s hard-driven centre cannoned off him but was repelled by Pope’s wonderfully instinctive reflexes.

Twelve minutes after the break, Charlton grabbed a not altogether unexpected lead. Gudmundsson’s outswinging left wing corner, earned by Cousins’ fiercely deflected shot, was headed down and in by Teixeira. The Portuguese’s first goal for the club reversed the worrying trend of conceding themselves from setpieces.

Beaten only once in three games since being recalled, Pope protected the lead by reacting sharply to keep out Adomah’s long-distance potshot, was relieved to watch the same player’s powerful drive clear his bar by inches, then twisted athletically to touch Gaston Ramirez’s treacherously swerving free kick over the top.

With the Teesiders improving, a second goal was required to finish them off; ten minutes from the end, Harriott popped up to provide the necessary insurance. Set up by Gudmundsson from the left byline, the busy marksman’s first shot was blocked. Pouncing on the rebound, his follow-up effort was drilled ruthlessly into the bottom right corner. The booking he incurred for jubilantly removing his shirt seemed worth it.

Reports of Charlton’s demise, it seems, are greatly exaggerated, despite the moving cortege which had escorted their symbolic corpse from Charlton Liberal Club to The Valley before the game. Tagging along in hopes of a rousing wake, it was a bit deflating to discover there were no nibbles or wine on offer. Only kidding, of course, because Charlton’s remarkable fans showed yet again on Saturday, that while increasing the pressure on the club’s ownership, their backing of their beloved side never wavered. Team not regime, that’s been the watchword.

As Charlton bumbled their way to a point which, in their current plight, does nothing to relieve the pressure on them, Jose Riga's inflated reputation as a survival guru took a battering. His team selection but, more crucially, his curious deployment of substitutes, came into serious question. In a game the Addicks desperately needed to win, the "head coach" hardly distinguished himself with several baffling decisions.

Based on the carnage he had caused -sometimes inadvertently - against Reading and Brentford, YaYa Sanogo was confidently expected to start against MK Dons, those liberty taking cuckoos who invited themselves unasked into Wimbledon's nest and have still to be accepted as part of the wider football family. Nice stadium though, to be fair, which damns them with faint praise.

Like John Cleese's revolutionary Reg in Life of Brian, unfortunately, Sanogo's bad back ruled him out of the action such as it was, his absence understandable until, on 58 minutes, he surprisingly replaced Callum Harriott to widespread dismay. After a so-so first half, marred by his proclivity for running into cul-de-sacs, then resorting to fouls in his efforts to back out of them, Harriott had begun the second session on fire. His aggressive running thrust the visitors on the back foot and, in combination with Yun Suk-Young, he created Charlton's best chance which Jordan Cousins curled narrowly wide. Boosted by his two goals at Griffin Park, Harriott was showing encouraging signs of taking this game by the scruff of its dreary neck when, abruptly, Riga removed him. His obvious displeasure as ne neared the dug-out, belied the touching father-son relationship romantics have woven around player and manager, as in "Jose really knows how to get the best out of Callum." And "Callum really responds to an affectionately paternal arm round his shoulder." It's probably no more than a family falling-out, though.They'll make it up in time.

If Harriott's withdrawal was a tactical gaffe, then the introduction of Sanogo raised quizzical eyebrows. A bad back is, after all, a bad back and was enough to keep Reg out of the Judean Popular Front's latest bid for freedom. If Sanogo was considered fit enough to play for over 30 minutes, then surely he could have been risked from the start instead of the ineffectual Simon Makienok. And equally surely it should have been Makienok, not Harriott, who made way for him. Say hey, Jose... a couple of bad calls.

And Riga's reluctance to play Ademola Lookman, what are we to make of that? The ebullient kid erupted from the bench in the 82nd minute to belatedly replace Makienok and proceeded to terrorise the increasingly complacent visitors. Completely incapable of controlling his electric eel trickery, both Kyle McFadzean and Sami Carruthers were panicked into bookings for manhandling the newcomer. Given more time, Lookman showed that he had the winning of this make-or-break game in him. Too late was the cry!

Karl Robinson's side, meanwhile, made unconvincing efforts to win the game but were clearly satisfied with a point which, once news of Rotherham's remarkable victory over Middlesbrough came through, lost some of its lustre. Being painstakingly fair again on the Buckinghamshire interlopers, it must be conceded that owner Pete Winkelman's loyalty to Robinson, despite relegation, serves as an eloquent reproach to the backstabbing treachery of Mad Hatter Roland Duchatelet. Approximately two and and a half years since he sat next to Chris Powell and expressed, in weasel words, his intention to work alongside his manager, he has used and abused not only Powell but one successor (five in all, soon to be six when Riga is shown the door at the end of the season) after another. Charlton have been reduced to football's laughing stock and are fast disappearing down the Championship rabbit hole. Where they eventually bottom out is a matter for grave concern because League One might turn out to be merely a landing stage on the humiliating way to League Two.

The less said the better, by the way, about this depressing game. Apart from Cousins' near thing, competent goalkeeping by Nick Pope, which included a smart save from Rob Hall and bravery at Nicky Maynard's feet to redeem his own potentially catastrophic kicking error, there isn't much else to report. Flat and listless, the minutes ticked by uneventfully until Lookman stepped in to demonstrate that Mk Dons had little to offer.

Scarcely inspired by the youngster's example, Sanogo disgraced himself during added time when he resolved a disagreement with Antony Kay by elbowing the defender in front of witnesses, among which was numbered referee Charles Breakspear. That's the irresponsible Gooner gone for the next three games; so YaYa Sanogoals for the time being then.

We move on without him, of course, with Middlesbrough, keen no doubt to make up for the blip at Rotherham, due at The Valley on Sunday. The Addicks are still alive. There's still a tangible pulse. And the gap, incredibly, still stands at seven points. Shame there's now two teams holding that advantage but we've said it before and we'll say it again. It ain't over till it's ov...

A stirring, riproaring second half rally, during which Charlton clawed back a two-goal interval deficit, ended familiarly - in heartbreak.Their statuesque defending of Jordan Obita's added time free kick continued their chronic vulnerability to setpieces and allowed Reading's late substitute Deniss Rakels to cause widespread dismay by poaching an easy winner at the far post.
In snatching disastrous defeat from the jaws of a useful draw, the Addicks failed to capitalise on that rarest of beasts - a hat-trick by Arsenal loanee YaYa Sanogo, the first by a Charlton player since Callum Harriott bagged all three goals in a 3-0 victory at Blackpool in May 2013.

Sanogo's heroics earned him local plaudits but it was his centre forward counterpart wearing the hoops of Reading who inflicted the greater damage. Charlton fans needed no reminding how good Yann Kermorgant can be and he wasted little time in rolling back the years for them. His typically astute 4th minute header guided Ola John's left wing cross in text book fashion back across Stephen Henderson from the far post and neatly down into the opposite corner of his net. The burly hitman considerately declined to celebrate and received a generous ovation from his former aficionados. In this reporter's opinion, he had every right to perform a Breton folk dance and follow it with a few bars of La Marsellaise. He was, you'll recall, forced out of The Valley after Chris Powell had been assured that, in Piotr Parzyszek, a superior replacement was already on the roster. That's Parzyszek...Piotr Parzyscek. There's an empty peg and locker waiting for you, Piotr, get in touch, pal, we're pining for you. It's not too late.. Who are ya, by the way? How will we know you?

Kermorgant's opener sealed a bright start by the Royals, with Stephen Quinn's drive having already clipped the crossbar before he scored. But within three minutes of falling behind, the first contribution to Sanogo's hat-trick restored parity for the home side. The equaliser was created by Marco Motta, who came through a midfield challenge against John before sending Sanogo away with a perceptive through pass. Taking the ball in stride, the lanky Frenchman tricked his way past Jake Cooper before hammering a low drive past Ali Al-Habsi.

The Gallic striking duel between Sanogo and Kermorgant looked briefly to have tipped in the former's favour but his crisp drive, after Johan Berg Gudmundsson got the better of Michael Hector on the right byline, buried itself into Al-Habsi's midriff.

Kermorgant responded immediately by heading Hector's corner past Henderson but Simon Makienok, stationed on the goalline close to the left post, had little difficulty in kicking the ball off the line. Hmm, a player on the line defending corners... now what century did that idea come from?
The big Yann was hard to resist, however, his second goal on 35 minutes being a thing of unquestionable beauty. Receiving Hal Robson-Kanu's pass inside the penalty area but confronted by two opponents, he nonchalantly sidestepped them, then curled a quite magnificent shot into the top right corner. There's always been more to Kermorgant than mere aerial artisan, a point he further stressed with a splendid pass, struck with the outside of his right foot, which bisected Charlton's square defence and sent John through to keep his composure before slotting coolly past the advancing Henderson and make it 3-1 at the break.

The interval introduction of Zakaraya Bergdich for El-Hadji Ba paid off almost instantly for Jose Riga, although John first startled him by hitting the bar from 25 yards. Bergdich's skilful turn of pace on the left then had Chris Gunter gasping, setting up a precise cross which Sanogo headed forcefully but straight at Al-Habsi. The ball rebounded back over the line off Cooper for might well have been an own goal but... good luck with getting the match ball back off YaYa.

After Henderson saved magificently from Kermorgant, Makienok created the next opportunity in this chance-strewn game. His flicked header played Sanogo through to loft the ball over the advancing Al-Habsi but an improvised lob lacked the necessary juice to beat the covering Paul McShane, who cleared the danger at the expense of a corner. Hard to discourage, though, Sanogo cleverly sent Bergdich away to confront Al-Habsi but in the same position and circumstances that John had successfully dealt with earlier on, the Moroccan shot against the advancing keeper. It proved to be an expensive miss.

There were was no stopping Sanogo, however, and he reacted sharply to the loose ball after Gudmundsson's ferocious drive almost bowled Al-Habsi over. The finish was scruffy and barely made it into the net but his second equaliser, with only six minutes remaining, appeared to have earned the Addicks a brave, precious point. Which made it all the more demoralising when the visitors stole victory deep into five minutes of added time.

A pointless foul by Rod Fanni near the left touchline conceded a free kick which Obita hoisted into a crowded penalty area, where Roger Johnson's clumsy, abortive attempt to clear wrongfooted Henderson and his equally nonplussed colleagues. Unmarked at the far post, Rakels had the simple task of tapping into an open goal, behind which the celebrations were mighty. The rest of The Valley was as raucous as a research library.

Still remarkably in reasonable touch with their relegation rivals, Charlton -and their imperturbably bulletproof boss Riga - won't be giving up quite yet. Nor is your correspondent. Next up are Brentford (a), followed by MK Dons (h), two fixtures which offer hope. Win both of those (it's called mindless optimism) and you never know. We'll draw a veil over the Sabbath visit of formidable Middlesbrough and Jordan Rhodes on March 13th. No need to spread defeatism or despair. Those unwanted pests arrive uninvited. But hang in there a bit longer. It ain't over yet. That's the good word.

Charlton fans who couldn't -or understandably wouldn't - attend this latest exposure of Charlton's shameful ineptitude will find it easy to mentally recreate the routine course it followed. But it might complete the picture for others if we skim through the familiar process by which they shipped their sixth 3-0 hiding of this miserable season.

It began, as usual, with an opening period during which the Addicks were clearly "the better side" but couldn't quite crown their spurious superiority by actually scoring. Check. Almost on cue around the half hour mark, they instead conceded the lead by failing to defend a left wing corner. Check. The interval arrived with the opposition "unjustly" 1-0 up. Check. After an hour, a second goal, again from a poorly defended left wing corner, put paid to any thoughts of an unlikely comeback. Check. Twenty minutes later, believe it or not folks, yet another left wing corner caused still more chaos and Charlton collapsed under a third goal. Check. Complete the necessary documentation and submit to the Football League. Check...and out. Any questions?

Network boss Jose Riga was succinct in his evaluation of this latest battering. "We concede three times from setpieces" he revealed, "so that was the main problem today. But I still believe." You don't say, Jose. It's hard to slip anything past you.

Riga was razor sharp if patently obvious in identifying his side's chronic vulnerability to corners as the main problem but it was hardly the only one. A failure to score in three successive games, two of them against fellow relegation strugglers, could count as another reasonably significant weakness as might the soft underbelly so regularly not to mention contemptuously ripped open by even the most modest of opposition. It's impossible to make a silk purse fom the sows' ears he has been handed but the suspicion persists that Riga is himself overrated and is merely the best of a bad bunch of so-called managers floating around Roland Duchatelet's mediocre network, who work cheap on short contracts. That's apparently their best recommendation. You rack your brains to think of another.

But back briefly to Charlton's "purple patch", during which, to be fair, they played some neat stuff and carved out one or two reasonable chances. The first of them was created by Zakaraya Bergdich's electric dart to the left byline followed by his accurate cutback to set up a crisp first-time shot from Callum Harriott which brought Andy Lonergan down low to his right to save. The visitors continued on top with Fernando Amorbieta's foul on Harriott conceding Johann Berg Gudmunsson's free kick blocked by Fulham's wall back to Gudmundsson, who volleyed wide. A fine ball from the left by Morgan Fox was then whisked from under Gudmundsson's nose by Luke Garbutt. Their efforts amounted to no more than mild pressure before the Cottagers put them in their place on the prescribed half hour.

A carefully worked short corner between Ross McCormack and Garbutt led to an awkward low drive from McCormack which Stephen Henderson alertly scrambled to temporary safety at the foot of his right post. McCormack swung in the second flagkick, the outstanding Scott Parker smashed it against the crossbar before Tom Cairney, with his weaker right foot, blasted Fulham's opener into the top left corner. An uncharacteristically glaring miss from 12 yards by, of all people, McCormack, spared the Addicks more damage before the break, encouraging the misguided notion that they'd somehow been unjustly treated by the 1-0 scoreline.

Still lively enough, Harriott opened the second period by stinging Lonergan's palms before the West Londoners again found another gear to double their lead. A more orthodox corner from McCormack was simply headed past Henderson by half-time substitute Michael Madl, whose clever movement earned him those mythical "acres of space" in which footballers operate. Irritating cliche, that one. My apologies for using it. Won' t happen again, which might be more than Charlton can promise.

Operating alongside McCormick, meanwhile, young Academy graduate Moussa Dembele had been subdued until he cut loose from 25 yard and all but shattered the bar. Cairney also came close with a more sedate effort which he dinked over the advancing Henderson but also over the bar.

Fulham were not kept waiting long for the statutory third goal, fizzed fiercely home by Cairney after the latest of McCormack's inswinging corners was scuffed out to him on the edge of the penalty area. The standard 3-0 drubbing had been completed and was not destined to be affected by Harriott's dreadful miss shortly before referee Kevin Friend drew the embarrassment to a merciful conclusion.

There is no wish to victimise Harriott in describing his largely irrelevant miscue, other than to spotlight Charlton's pathetic record of 26 goals scored in 32 league games and to make the observation that a natural finisher, in preference to the baffling acquisition of reluctant imports, has been their pressing need all season. A trawl through the domestic lower leagues seems a more sensible bet. That Paddy Madden at Scunthorpe United for instance. Is he worth a look? Can we afford him? Has he, or any other potential marksman, ever appeared on Roland's blinkered radar? Is it true that our owner has short arms but deep pockets? Does he have a clue what he's doing?

And Harriott's miss? Until he subsided along with the rest of his colleagues, he was among the better performers. But when Simon Makienok expertly cushioned Fox's excellent cross on to his favoured left foot, nobody really expected him to hit the target. Last seen, his hilariously skybound shot was seen bouncing around that marvellous Spanish Civil War memorial at the far end of Bishops Park. Until then, a short pilgrimage to pay our respects had been the only redeeming feature of a thoroughly depressing visit to Putney. We won't be returning in the near future.

There have been quite a few dark, desperate days at The Valley down the years. D-Days you might call them, disasters fraught with despair, disillusionment and disappointment. There's no need to rehearse them here but it's enough to say that this drab February afternoon takes its rightful place among them. It was about as dire as it gets, coming as it did on the heels of Charlton's most encouraging display of this dismal season.

That ruthless demolition of Rotherham United quickly faded into already distant memory as the events- or rather non-events- of this dreadful game unfolded. With everything to play for against fellow-strugglers Bristol City, the Addicks managed one shot on target and that a risible effort from Zakaraya Bergdich, which trickled almost apologetically into Richard O'Donnell's hands early in the second half. That's all, folks!

Except to report that Bristol City were only marginally less awful than their toothless hosts. Given something to defend after referee Mike Jones' disputed but correct decision that Lee Tomlin had been needlessly shoved in the back by Johann Berg Gudmundsson as he pursued Bobby Reid's deflected shot inside the penalty area, they protected their advantage with embarrassing ease. In fact, had it not been for Stephen Henderson's defiant goalkeeping, they might have strolled home with something to spare.

Rumoured to be on his way to join Charlton during the transfer window, Tomlin was the difference between the sides. Not that he played particularly well but he both earned and converted the matchwinning penalty before being substituted on the hour. Jose Riga's accusation that the Bournemouth loanee dived under Gudmundsson's gentle but significant pressure was merely the cry-wolf reaction of a frustrated manager and as such should be ignored.

Riga might more profitably enquire how playmaker Tomlin eluded him during the transfer window. It seems that Charlton have a novel take on the loan system. While Tomlin was rushed into City's line-up as a quick fix that worked and which is the point of the loan system, we have to assume that Ya Ya Sanogo and Rod Fanni were dubiously added with an increasingly uncertain future in mind. Neither of them so much as made the bench on Saturday which implies that they had been recruited without Riga's enthusiastic approval. Unless, of course, they weren't match fit. Almost overlooked that point. You don't set foot in Sparrows Lane without proof that you lack match fitness. After all, we didn't get where we are today by being fit and we certainly don't need any eager beavers with a point to prove. Like Lee Tomlin.

Anyway, without being too hard on the new boss, it's tempting to conclude that any potential Riga-bounce has fizzled out all too soon. So cocky and confident in South Yorkshire a week previously, the Addicks froze in front of their own fans as usual. Their last victory at The Valley was the surprise defeat of Sheffield Wednesday on November 7th, since when it's been an almost unrelieved tale of frustration.

There was never any suggestion that the three-months wait would be ended at Bristol City's expense. The Westcountrymen's arrival co-incided with the news that Lee Johnson had been prised from Barnsley to fill the managerial space left by Steve Cotterill's dismissal. Though Johnson watched this game from the VIP seating, the sense was that Charlton were the first victims of the Robins' new manager bounce.

The Robins' incoming gaffer will regard this result as a welcome bonus before buckling down to duty. His new charges moved in front on 21 minutes after Tomlin made the most of Gudmundsson's clumsy indiscretion, dusted himself off (as the cliche routinely has it) and forced an unconvincing spotkick under the unlucky Henderson's right elbow. He will have noted how easily they defended their lead and will be forgiven for concluding that avoiding relegation will be a piece of cake if the rest of City's rivals turn out to be as feckless as Charlton.

A little unfortunate with the penalty, Henderson singlehandedly maintained his side's notional interest in this game as a contest. Soon after they fell behind, he performed an amazing juggling act to first parry, then paw to safety Reid's wickedly deflected drive. Nearer the end, he backpedalled frantically to touch Luke Freeman's cheeky long-distance lob over the bar before responding athletically to turn the same player's fierce drive away at full length.

Henderson's heroics were to go unrewarded while the Addicks, a shadow of the fast-breaking, pacy outfit which blew Rotherham away a week earlier, pottered about without purpose or, more to the point, hope. Sent plunging to the bottom of the league, they are exactly where they belong and where they will stay until the lugubrious M. Duchatlelet grasps what the club's despised fans already know. The managerial not-so-merry-go-round of foreign network managers (three already this season) and inconsequential crust-earning players is farcical and is turning Charlton into the punchline of a huge joke.

The presence of Lee Tomlin in the visiting ranks on Saturday makes the point perfectly. With the addition of his talent and Lee Johnson's Anglo-Saxon phlegm, Bristol City have already taken a huge stride towards safety. They say it's never too late to learn. So, RD, look, listen and learn. You might find you're wrong.

14,342 (2,208 visiting).
N.B. On the subject of D-Day, there was a large hole at The Valley on Saturday when Normandy veteran Donald Hunt, now in his advanced 90s, was forced to miss his first game for ages. Donald was taken ill and admitted to Lewisham Hospital but is confidently expected to recover. The former Kings Own Scottish Borderer was extremely peeved by his enforced absence but might be back next Saturday. We'll be looking out for you, Don. Be well. Kev and Haze.